


don't shoot the sheriff

by randolhllee



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Background Supercorp, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-09-24 14:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17102084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randolhllee/pseuds/randolhllee
Summary: Maggie is the newly-elected sheriff of five counties, summoned to the tiny town of Midvale to bring whoever murdered Judge Lex Luthor to justice. When she arrives, Mayor Lillian Luthor is adamant that her son was shot by bandits that have been delaying the nearby railroad project, but Maggie isn't convinced. On top of that, Alex Jones is clearly not the medical examiner, and Maggie's not even sure she's really a Pinkerton agent either. It's Maggie's job to figure out what the hell is going on and who shot the judge, but she's beginning to feel like she'll be lucky to leave the town alive.Supergirl Femslash Secret Santa gift for CounterfeitBravado :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CounterfeitBravado](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CounterfeitBravado/gifts).



> Prompt from CounterfeitBravado: "Historical AU! Maybe the two get set back in time by some alien mishap or something, or the entire world is set in a different historical era other than the 21st century."
> 
> I went with a Wild West AU! Thanks for the prompts, and happy holidays!

Maggie climbed the steps to the huge house cautiously, wide-brimmed hat in hand, still unsure of what she would find there. The telegram summoning her had said only that there was a dead judge in a tiny town called Midvale, twenty-five miles from her office in National City. Any town that measured up as ‘tiny’ in comparison to National City, only ten years incorporated, was bound to be no more than a few storefronts along a dusty main road, but it was even smaller than Maggie had expected. The mayor’s house was the only two-story building, and it was the only one that looked as if it had been built more than six months ago.

“May I help you, ma’am?”

Maggie squinted into the open door, eyes still adjusting from the bright sun that didn’t quite penetrate into the dim interior.

“Sheriff Sawyer, here to see Mayor Luthor.”

“Right this way.”

She stepped into the cool interior and let her eyes adjust all the way before she followed the housekeeper down the hall. Her gun belt, badge, and the other accoutrements of her office jangled in the oppressive silence. Her slight stature meant that Maggie rarely felt like the bull in the china shop that someone of her background and training might have felt in higher-class surroundings, but something about the solemn, dark house forced the feeling to creep in somewhere around her midsection.

The figure ahead of her stopped and gestured to an open door.

“Mrs. Luthor will see you in the library, ma’am.”

“It’s sheriff, and I’m here to see the mayor.”

“I am the mayor,” another female voice interrupted. The housekeeper waved Maggie into the room, and she followed the gesture into the library. “Mayor Lillian Luthor.”

“Sheriff Maggie Sawyer.” Maggie hesitated, but the mayor held out a steady hand. She shook, and was surprised by the firm grip. Usually, anyone dressed as finely and stately as the mayor would have expected a bow or a curtsey, both gestures that Maggie was not inclined to deliver on demand.

“I got a message about a dead judge.” The previous sheriff, Gordon, had always shaken his head in dismay and a little pride when Maggie skipped the niceties. Said something about catching more flies with honey, as if flies were what Maggie had spent her career trapping. Thank god she’d run for sheriff unopposed; if there had been an opponent, she would have been forced to make speeches, attend dinners, and kiss babies, and lord knows she would have found that sorely trying.

“Yes, Judge Lex Luthor.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows and braced her hands on her belt.

“Your husband?”

The taller woman shook her head and gestured for Maggie to sit down. She herself sank down into a well-stuffed wingback chair, so Maggie settled gingerly into the finely-appointed sofa for the duration.

“My husband passed on several years ago. Lex was my son.” Past tense, already.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Maggie struggled for a moment with the best way to ask how, but the mayor beat her to it.

“He was shot by bandits. I’ve called you here to bring them in. I don’t suppose you brought any deputies?”

Maggie swept her arms wide and shrugged.

“I can send for more men if I need them. You get many bandits through here?”

The other woman’s posture had not wavered an inch since Maggie entered the room, and her face had not changed much either. A hard look in her eyes got harder at the question.

“They’ve been harassing the railroad building sites, stealing materials, horses, other things. We received news that they were planning to strike where they were preparing to blast along the side of the mountain for the track. Lex went out to stop them and never came back.”

Her expression was not one of sorrow, but of anger. Everyone grieved differently, but Maggie would bet her horse that the anger in this case was directed at the damage to the railroad, and not at her son’s murder.

“Anyone with him at the time?”

“Five of the guards for the railroad. When do you expect you’ll be able to catch them?”

Maggie tipped her head.

“The guards?”

An annoyed expression set in Mayor Luthor’s face.

“The bandits who killed my son.”

“If it looks like it was them, I’ll see about raising a posse and bringing them in.”

Mayor Luthor shook her head.

“There’s no need for that. A few bullets in their skulls will do just as well.”

Maggie settled back on the sofa and regarded the mayor carefully.

“That’s illegal.”

Mayor Luthor laughed. It was a bitter, choked sound, as if she didn’t laugh often at all.

“A lot of things are illegal. I’m talking about justice.”

“Are you?” Maggie asked curiously.

The mayor scoffed and moved on.

“We had to bury him four days ago, but I’m happy to tell you anything you need to know. We had a medical examiner come out, to whom I’m sure you’ll wish to speak. Try the public house down the street.”

The mayor stood, and Maggie followed suit. She might not possess all the social graces that people like the Luthors prized, but she could certainly.  

“I guess that’d be a good idea, ma’am.”

Mayor Luthor walked her to the door and started down the hall.

“And of course you’re invited to dinner. We dine at seven.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Maggie put her hat back on once she’d cleared the threshold, then immediately tapped the brim in a brief salute. Though she remained steady on her way down the front steps, she could feel the mayor’s eyes on her back all the way down the street, until the next building blocked the Luthor house from sight.

 

* * *

 

Upon her return to the public house that was the shining centerpiece of the town’s lackluster main street, Maggie headed straight for the most powerful man in the room: the barkeep. She was fairly certain he was also the owner, but experience had demonstrated that most publican’s power came from control over the flow of libations.

“Can I get two scotches and directions to the visiting doctor’s room?”

“Doc’s not in the room,” the barkeep supplied, and slid two glasses onto the bar.

“Where is he then?”

“She’s over here. Is one of those for me?”

Maggie turned to find the source of the new voice.

“Are you the medical examiner?”

“Sure, that’s me,” the other woman responded. She was sitting at the far end of the bar, nearly underneath the stairs. Until she leaned forward, she blended into the shadows there despite the broad daylight outside. “Dr. Alex Jones.”

“Right. Sheriff Maggie Sawyer. Sorry, that’s the second day I’ve made an assumption like that.” Maggie grabbed the now-full glasses and walked the length of the bar. As she approached, she looked the doctor over; she was dressed in well-fitted trousers, shirt sleeves, and a waistcoat that had seen better days, and she carried a pistol strapped to her thigh.

“Sheriff?”

“Yeah, I know, I should be the last one assuming the mayor and the medical examiner are men.” Maggie snagged a stool with her foot and dragged it so she could see the doctor clearly. For her part, the doctor took the glass appreciatively and knocked half of it back in one gulp.

“Nah, I’m being magnanimous and letting that pass. That wasn’t what I meant. I thought Gordon was still the sheriff.”

Maggie sipped at her drink comfortably and watched the challenging glint that transformed the doctor’s sharp features.

“He retired last year after taking another one in the shoulder. He claimed if he didn’t do it right then he couldn’t rightly expect to have any limbs left come next election cycle. So I ran, and I won.”

Dr. Jones seemed to accept that, and relaxed.

“Interesting. What do you make of the Luthor murder?”

Maggie took the sudden change of subject in stride.

“You think it’s murder then?”

“Two shot gun shells to the chest at pretty close range looks like murder to me.”

Maggie watched as Dr. Jones finished her drink.

“The mayor said it was bandits.”

The other woman shook her head.

“I don’t know about that.”

“You think it was someone else?” Maggie challenged. In her experience, medical examiners only commented on the body, and made few other speculations.

“No, just can’t tell for sure from shotgun shells alone.” Dr. Jones’ casual tone belied her interest in the subject. Maggie decided to float a hunch.

“You’re not really a doctor, are you?”

Dr. Jones waved at the barkeep for a refill.

“Sure am. Got my license and everything.”

Maggie leaned on the bar and tipped her head to the side, allowing a small smile to grow on her lips.

“I’d like to see that.”

“What do you know, it’s in my other saddlebag. Maybe next time. Or you could search my room,” the other woman offered with a smirk. Maggie sipped her drink again.

“Who do you work for?”

Dr. Jones (no, just Jones) rolled her eyes.

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me. And it should to you, unless you want to be arrested for impersonating a public official, Miss Jones,” Maggie offered with false enthusiasm.

“It’s Alex, and please. This far west? No judge in the state would put me in jail for something like that.” Maggie raised her eyebrows, and Alex shrugged. “I really am a doctor. I have a stethoscope and everything.”

“That’s nice. Who hired you?”

Alex pouted.

“All business, aren’t you?” Maggie rolled her eyes, and Alex continued. “A few of the railroad investors. They want to make sure that the thing gets built, and the Pinkertons—”

“You’re with the Pinkertons?”

“Five years now,” Alex reported with a grin. Maggie squinted at her over the edge of her glass.

“Sure.”

“Anyway, I’m just supposed to make sure that Luthor really is dead and that this isn’t an excuse for the railroad to go belly-up to hide missing money.”

“There’s money missing?” Maggie asked.

“Nothing so far, but they haven’t seen financial reports in a few months, and the Luthors have apparently done some shady business in the past. And they run the town, and I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Alex drawled. She rolled her glass on its base, chasing its own shadow around and around.

“I saw that, yes. And these people invested in the railroad anyhow?”

Alex rolled her eyes again.

“They claim they didn’t know at the time. My boss scared them all into hiring us early on the next time they want to invest in a project this big.”

Maggie considered that and nodded.

“So, this is the part where I warn you not to get in the way of the law.”

“But you’ll take my help where I’m willing to give it,” Alex finished with a grin. “Yeah, I know how it goes.”

Maggie nodded again, glad to be understood. The Pinkertons sometimes acted as a law unto themselves, but at the end of the day, it was Maggie that would be responsible for ensuring that justice was served. No matter what, she and Alex did not have the same goals.

Satisfied, Maggie headed onto another topic. “So there’s a Judge Luthor and a Mayor Luthor and a Luthor company building the railroad,” she clarified.

“Luthor and Sons Incorporated,” Alex pronounced in a way that made the capital letters and fancy lettering obvious.

“Sons? There are more of them?”

Alex shook her head.

“No more sons. Daughter, Lena. You’ll probably meet her at dinner.”

Maggie frowned.

“Dinner?”

“Don’t tell me you’re not invited.”

“You’re telling me you are?” Maggie asked in surprise.

“Sure. I’ll see you there, I guess.” Alex finished off her drink for the second time, hopped off her stool, and headed for the stairs before Maggie could say another word.

“Nice to meet you, I guess,” Maggie muttered into her glass.

 

* * *

 

Maggie arrived at the mayor’s house promptly at seven, only to find Alex Jones, Lillian Luthor, and a young woman introduced as Lillian’s daughter Lena already having drinks in the parlor. After the introductions, Maggie turned to the mayor.

“I apologize, I don’t spend much time in polite company. I didn’t realize it was customary to arrive early.” She glared at Alex as she delivered her apology. She could have at least knocked on Maggie’s door.

“That’s quite all right,” the mayor assured her, although she looked even more as if she were looking down her nose at Maggie when she said it. “Where are you from, Sheriff?”

“Born and raised in Gotham, ma’am,” Maggie reported, feeling like a child who had been called in to present herself to her parents’ dinner guests before being sent to bed.

“Being sheriff must be terribly exciting,” Miss Luthor ventured. She was dressed in what had to be the most expensive dress Maggie had ever seen, although its soft ruffles and lace did not quite match the keen gaze of its wearer.

Maggie could not help but shrug, although she kicked herself mentally as she did so.

“Not really. I was a deputy before, so this is the same with a bit more paperwork.”

“What is happening to this country? Paperwork on the frontier? Some days I ask myself why we moved from Metropolis at all,” the mayor laughed. She waved them all into the next room, and stopped next to the head of the table. Everyone paused, and Maggie panicked for a moment, unsure of what to do, but Alex stepped up smoothly and pulled the chair back for the mayor. Maggie took the hint and did the same for Miss Luthor, which put her in the perfect position to catch Alex’s smirk.

“I thought we moved to avoid the political scandal,” Miss Luthor murmured.

“What was that, Lena, dear?”

“Nothing, mother.”

Judging by Alex’s expression, she had also heard the exchange, but she didn’t seem to find it nearly as intriguing as Maggie did.

“The business opportunities out here have to be astounding,” Alex ventured.

The mayor shook out her napkin and settled it on her lap.

“There are many infrastructure projects, that’s certain, but it’s all a matter of being in the right place at the right time. Once the railroad is built, I doubt we’ll stay.”

“I’m sure your constituents will miss you greatly,” Maggie commented, earning her a sharp look from both Luthors.

“I don’t know that I’d go that far, but there is something to be said for leadership in a town like this,” the mayor replied finally. The housekeeper entered the room at some silent signal and began to serve what appeared to be some sort of soup.

“Leadership is important, especially with bandits in the hills,” Alex continued seriously. “Or so I’d imagine.”

“Are they dangerous, do you think, Sheriff?” Miss Luthor asked, turning to Maggie with interest.

Maggie restricted herself to a small shrug. Maybe if she ever knew the answers to the questions they asked, she’d be able to stop.

“Could be. If they killed the judge, I’d say they are.” She winced. “I apologize, he was your brother, I should be less blunt.”

Miss Luthor flicked her eyebrows in an expression that said she was not in the least bit offended, which Maggie tucked away to think about later. The mayor bypassed the exchange entirely and focused solely on Maggie’s uncertainty.

“Of course they killed my son.”

Maggie deferred with a small smile, trying hard to avoid eye contact with Alex.

“Certainly, ma’am.”

“Does that mean you’re not certain?”

She slipped and locked eyes with Alex for a brief moment.

“Not at all.”

“So you’re sure?” the mayor pushed. Maggie put down her spoon and wiped her mouth.

“I’m not ready to make any pronouncements about my opinions yet. Never known a bandit to use a shotgun at close range, though.”

The mayor looked—surprised. Or at least that’s what Maggie thought she saw, in the split second between her own words and the sudden fit of coughing that erupted from beside her as Miss Luthor choked on a spoonful of soup.

“Is everything alright, dear?” the mayor asked calmly. Miss Luthor waved off both the question and Maggie’s hovering concern.

“Yes, I’m fine, mother.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner went quickly after that, as the talk turned from murder to the more banal details of small-town life and the time the Luthors had spent in Metropolis. Alex seemed familiar with the city and asked after several of their acquaintances. She seemed perfectly happy to chat away about any number of things that Maggie could not care less about, and Maggie was equally content to let her direct the conversation and eat in peace. She noticed, however, that Miss Luthor was also quiet for most of dinner.

Alex and Maggie departed together into the fallen dusk, making their way down the dusty street in tandem. Though a few lamps in front of the houses lit their way, it was by and large completely dark. Even the saloon was relatively quiet, with only a few groups of men gathered around tables with pints in hand, deep in conversation.

Maggie headed for the stairs without a second thought, but was pulled back by the sound of Alex’s voice calling out to her.

“Goodnight, Sheriff.”

Maggie swung around and grinned.

“ _Doctor._ ”

Alex stepped closer, a challenge in her eyes again.

“I’ll have you know I worked hard for that degree.”

“Is that so?” Maggie dared. “I’d like to see proof of that.”

Alex shrugged easily.

“Give me somebody to heal and we’ll see if I can convince you.”

“I look forward to that,” Maggie promised, and turned to the stairs again.

“Not staying for a drink?” Alex asked behind her. She sounded disappointed, almost, although Maggie could not imagine why. Or didn’t want to; this Luthor tangle was messy enough without throwing in confusing instincts regarding the Pinkerton agent mucking around in her jurisdiction. Even if at the moment it seemed like a good idea to stay, have another drink, and get to know Alex, it certainly wasn’t appropriate.

“Good night,” Maggie called behind her instead, and headed up the stairs to her room.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time the sharp line of true sunrise crept over the windowsill, Maggie was fastening her belt and braiding her hair back for the day ahead. She descended the stairs in silence, although she needn’t have worried about disturbing anyone—the saloon was deserted, the chairs upturned on tables in the dim light casting a very different picture than the tumultuous bar of the night before.

An hour later, Maggie had worked out all the facts she knew so far over tea and a sandwich gleaned from supplies she’d scavenged in the pub kitchen. Her old partner had joshed her about the lists and lines she drew to keep everything about a crime straight, but even he couldn’t deny that it usually worked. The one thing she couldn’t account for was the strangeness of the Luthors’ grief. Miss Luthor was more tense than anything else, and her muttered comments led Maggie to believe that she wasn’t the devoted daughter she was meant to be. Even more suspicious was the mayor’s attitude to the entire matter. Her son had been murdered, and her pain seemed—empty. A façade.

Maggie slurped the last of the tea and set about cleaning up after herself. A few minutes, and she was back on the street, ready to head to the Luthor house yet again. Mayor Luthor had promised that she’d have the men who’d witnessed the murder at the house before they headed off to shifts on the railroad.

 

* * *

 

The sun was much higher in the sky when Maggie exited the mayor’s house than when she’d gone in, but it was as if she’d been standing still the entire time. Each man had repeated the same story, nearly word-for-word: the judge had been shot as he approached the bandits to scare them off. They’d been on horseback, and had escaped before the other guards could do anything. It had just happened so  _fast_. 

Maggie turned it over and over in her mind as she followed the road through a valley towards the site of the shoot-out, but couldn’t make sense of it. She was no better off when she turned off the road where it intersected the brand-new stretch of railroad track, and still no better when she recognized the landmarks the guards had described to guide her to the spot where the judge had fallen.

With a frisson of interest, Maggie also recognized the duster-clad figure that stood surveying the rocky outcropping abutting the railroad. The temperature had risen with the sun, and Maggie had deemed the day unworthy of a coat. It seemed that Alex was used to warmer climes.  

“Wow, you must have been up before dawn, huh?” Maggie greeted the Pinkerton agent after tying her horse to a section of the railroad a dozen yards back.

Alex barely glanced her way before she returned to her detailed survey of the landscape.

“I’m an early riser.”

Maggie followed her gaze and saw nothing of interest. She turned her own attention to the ground.

“So am I, but I didn’t see you anywhere this morning.”

“Maybe you’re not as early a riser as you think you are.”

“That’s possible,” Maggie allowed. Privately, she didn't think it was likely. “Can I see your boots?”

Alex grinned and finally made eye contact.

“Looking for a new pair?”

“Nah, just want to separate out your tracks from everybody else’s. The bottoms, if you don't mind.”

Alex frowned, but obliged.

“They left—”

“Here.” Maggie pointed to the other side of the tracks, and tried not to laugh at Alex’s chagrined expression. “Might be clearer if you hadn’t walked all over them, but judging by what looks to be an imprint of a holster and a pocket, not to mention some blood, this is where the judge fell. Ground must have been soft from the rain.”

Alex didn’t speak, but glanced up at Maggie instead, as if asking her to continue.

“He came the same way I did, but I don’t see any other footprints behind his. I think he was alone.”

Maggie judged the marks and moved in the direction that made the most sense for the short-range shot. Unfortunately, that was also where Alex had been standing when she arrived; she fancied that she saw other prints underlying the scuffs Alex had left, but it was impossible to tell the size or any identifying marks.

 “Not much to see, is there?” Maggie called. She looked back at Alex; she at least had the decency to look a little red around the neck, like she knew she’d made things harder.

“No. You talk to Luthor’s men?”

“The railroad guards?”

“The Luthors pay their wages,” Alex reminded her.

“Yes. All of them swear up and down that the judge was shot here, as he was approaching the works to scare them off. They returned fire, but the outlaws were already on horseback and got away in seconds.”

“All of them, huh?”

“Yup. Using suspiciously similar language.”

They shared a smile over the railroad tracks at the sarcasm in Maggie’s voice.

“Ever seen anything like it?” Alex asked.

“Judge shot for no damn reason, and the family acting suspicious as all hell?” Maggie returned. “Nope, never have. Hope never to see it again.”

“No damn reason?” Alex inquired. Maggie squinted back.

“None that I can see. You know different?”

“No.” Alex looked away. “Just asking.”

“What do you know about these bandits?” Maggie asked, her voice a little too hard for idle curiosity.

“Not much at all.” Alex met Maggie’s eyes again, and Maggie could not find a lie. Couldn’t find earnestness either, but surely there was something to be said for giving the benefit of the doubt.

“The mayor seems pretty sure they did it, even if the story doesn’t quite add up. And no one seems to deny that they’ve been thieving around for months,” Maggie pressed.

Alex scuffed a foot along the ground, almost in frustration.

“You talk to a lot of people?” she asked with a weight in her voice Maggie couldn't get a handle on.

“Some.”

They traded looks, and something in Alex relented.

“They only seem to be stealing from the railroad, not any of the ranchers. Not as random as it might look.”

Maggie tilted back the brim of her hat and passed a hand across her forehead.

“You saying this is between the bandits and the Luthors?”

“I think there are some pretty large ranches within a day’s ride that haven’t had any problems with rustlers. Compared to prize steer or good breeding cows, the stuff they’ve been stealing from the building sites is nearly worthless.”

“You’ve been talking to a lot of people, haven’t you?” Maggie asked. “Must have taken a long time, riding around to all the ranches in the area.”

Alex shrugged.

“Took you a few days to get here,” she replied coolly. “And I’m well-paid.”

“I’m not. What do you think I should do?” Maggie questioned. She expected some recommendation to talk to the ranchers, to round up the outlaws, something big and dramatic. The Pinkertons seemed to go in for that sort of thing, all blazing guns and dynamite.

“I think you should leave town,” Alex said suddenly, evenly, as if she’d been preparing to say it since Maggie rode up. Maybe even before, Maggie realized.

“Sorry?”

“I think you should leave. I’ve ridden all over, seen a lot with the Pinkertons. This kind of thing, best thing for the law to do is let the town sort it out. Come back in a couple months, make sure it all shook out all right. Easy as that.” Alex’s eyes were veiled again, betraying nothing of her feelings on the matter.

“That’s not how the law works,” Maggie argued, taken aback. “And isn’t it better for your employers if everything stays on this side of the law?”

Alex shook her head slowly.

“It’s better for my employers if they turn a profit. If the bandits did kill the judge, they’ll leave the area to avoid you. If not, the mayor has it out for them, and no one will miss them when they’re gone. Either way, the railroad gets built and justice is served. Isn’t that your job?”

Maggie stepped forward.

“My job is to uphold the law.” She rested her hands on her belt, suddenly finding the idea of having a hand near her pistol much more comforting than it had been two minutes before. “And that means finding out who killed Judge Luthor and bringing them in.”

Alex sighed.

“You’re a whole heap of fun, you know that?” Alex drawled. “‘I’m the law’ and all that.” She used a gruff voice several octaves below Maggie’s own.

Maggie glared, but the tension had transformed into something easier. She relaxed her stance and let her hands fall to her sides.

“You shut up,” she warned Alex, but she could feel the twinkle tugging at the corners of her eyes. “I can have you run out of town anytime I want if you keep making trouble.”

“No, you can’t.” Alex grinned, smug in her victory.

Privately, Maggie agreed. She didn’t have the local clout nor the time to devote herself to stonewalling a Pinkerton agent with an unknown amount of resources at her disposal. Hell, if Maggie couldn’t figure this mess out in the next few days, she’d have to leave anyway, effectively leaving it to the locals as Alex had suggested. All she could do was work as fast she could manage and pray that she put the pieces together before her other duties called too loudly.

“Alex!”

A voice carried over the rise, followed swiftly by a slight figure on horseback. As the rider approached, still astride her horse, Maggie saw that it was a blonde woman with a determined look about her. She glanced back at Alex, who suddenly looked flustered.

“Friend of yours?” Maggie inquired, hands back on her belt. Alex’s gaze snapped back to Maggie.

“Sheriff Sawyer, this is Kara Kent. Kara, this is Sheriff Sawyer.”

Kara dropped down from her horse and advanced on Maggie with a hand outstretched.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she managed, glancing at Alex the whole while with a warning in her face. Maggie watched with interest.

“Likewise. What brings you out here, Miss Kent?”

“Kara’s helping me out while I’m here,” Alex interrupted. Maggie ignored her.

“You live around here?” she asked Kara directly. This time, Kara’s bright blue eyes met Maggie’s gaze.

“Cattle hand on one of the ranches just north of here.” She made a vague gesture that included most of the land to the west, north, and east of Midvale.

“Is that right? Which one is that?”

“The Henshaw ranch, ma’am.” It meant nothing to Maggie, but she tucked that name away to ask about in town.

“Was that one of the ranches that sold land to the Luthors for the railroad?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kara replied. She glanced behind Maggie to where Alex stood. “This used to be their land.”

“So they sold on Midvale Pass, too?” Maggie asked, recalling the name from the conversation the night before. The railroad crew was due to blast the pass wider with dynamite in a few days.

“Sure did.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows at Kara’s laconic answer. Time to switch directions.

“It’s driving season. Why aren’t you halfway to Texas by now?”

Kara did not seem to appreciate the polite interrogation, not judging by her pointed glare.

“I hurt my leg earlier this year. Couldn’t be sure it’d last for the whole drive, so I stayed behind with the breeders.”

“Huh.”

“What?” Kara ground out.

“Nothing,” Maggie assured her with a grin. “Just never known a rancher to keep on a hand that’s not doing any work.”

Kara huffed and seemed about to answer, but stopped. Maggie suspected it was due to some gesture from Alex, who remained behind her.

“I’ve gotta get going,” Kara said finally. “See you later, Alex.” She mounted her horse in one smooth motion and was off. Maggie made another mental note, this one reminding her that despite Kara’s supposed leg injury, she sat her horse just fine.

“Alex?” she asked, turning back to the woman in question. “I forgot to ask where that came from. Your name,” she clarified when Alex furrowed her brow.

Alex looked relieved. Another note, this time on the relationship between Alex and Kara. It was likely nothing, though; if Alex could miss footprints, she could miss a ranch hand acting suspiciously. City folk.

“Alexandra.”

“Don’t hear that name often.”

Alex shrugged.

“It’s more common in Europe. Not like Margaret, I guess. Lots of Margarets.”

“My name’s not Margaret,” Maggie told her. She wasn’t sure why, but it sat ill with her to lie to the other woman about something so trivial. “You from Europe?”

“No.” Alex shook her head. “I’m—what’s Maggie short for then?”

Maggie noted the switch; she thought Alex might have been close to saying where she was actually from. Her list of alarm bell-inducing notes was getting long, and she still felt no closer to piecing them all together.

“That’s between my, my mama, and God,” Maggie informed her with a wink. “I’m going to ride the area, see if anything looks out of place.”

Alex nodded.

“I’ll accompany you, if you don’t mind. I haven’t seen the pass yet.”

“Not at all. Lead the way.”

* * *

 

Maggie rode back to town alone in the hazy light of sundown. She had ridden a wide expanse of land with Alex, mostly following the railway as Alex pointed out the points where the bandits had harassed the line. Maggie studied her face as she spoke, but could not discern whether or not Alex was holding something back. The agent was engaging company at the very least, and the day had passed quickly in her company. As they reached the end of the line, Alex had cited a ranch she wanted to call at again as her reason for leaving; Maggie welcomed the time alone. She did her best thinking alone, even if talking the facts out with Alex had solidified some things in her mind.

The whole was there somewhere in all the pieces Maggie had been handed, she knew that much. The bandits were targeting the railroad, and the mayor wanted them gone. That checked out. But Alex seemed unconcerned with having Maggie deal with them quickly; she seemed more eager to get Maggie away from Midvale altogether, and that was—odd. Let the town work it out? The agent clearly had another angle at play.

Was there something wrong with the railroad line? Maggie resolved to find a worker she hadn’t spoken to yet, maybe an engineer overseeing the blasting in the pass. They would know if there was a reason the investors Alex represented wouldn’t want the railroad to continue. That wouldn’t explain the Luthors, though, and their curious lack of concern for the loss of their kin.

Speaking of Luthors doing strange things—

As Maggie entered the town, she passed the mayor’s house. Lena Luthor stood on the porch, half-hidden behind the door, speaking with a figure. The coat and hat made it difficult to tell, but a blonde ponytail peeking out from below the hat made it easier for Maggie to recognize the ranch hand she’d met earlier. Not only did Kara Kent know Alex, but here she was speaking to Lena Luthor in hushed tones. If Maggie had had to put a name to it, she would have said they look conspiratorial.

As Maggie dismounted in the pub stable and began to rub down her horse, she turned it over and over in her head, but the head and tail of the matter were indistinguishable from the body. A dead judge, an unfeeling mayor, an unfinished railroad, and an injured-but-not-injured ranch hand who seemed awfully cozy with the mayor’s daughter.

It was a tangled knot of a matter, that was certain. Although she’d hardly met the woman, Maggie couldn’t help but be glad that Alex was hanging around. It couldn’t hurt to have another gun in a fight if it came to it, even if it was a Pinkerton.

Though, Maggie mused, that was assuming that Alex’s interests continued to align with her own.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie tells the mayor that she's not sure the bandits killed Judge Luthor, which leads to even more strange behavior, and helps Alex out of a tight spot.

Maggie’s second morning in Midvale began much as the first had, right up until she went to leave her room. Just before her foot descended on it, she noticed a scrap of paper lying in front of the door. When she picked it up, she had to squint to make out the scrawl.

_Lillian Luthor is lying. Midvale Pass, the engineer’s wagon, noon._

Maggie raised a hand to her face and rubbed at suddenly twinging sinuses. The longer she stayed in Midvale, the longer she missed National City and the straightforward criminals she dealt with there. Out here, no one seemed to tell the truth, even those who supposedly had nothing to hide. It made her wonder what would happen if she pulled out her compass; it wouldn't have surprised her at all to see it point due east.

* * *

 

When Maggie arrived, the mayor was as adamant that morning as she’d been two days before.

 “I hope you’ve satisfied your curiosity, sheriff. Shall I ask my men to raise a posse?”

Maggie held her gaze and her ground, even though Lillian’s sharp eyes made her feel as though she had better get her back against something before she was attacked from behind. More and more, she found herself wishing that she’d brought a deputy with her to Midvale, if only to have someone around without a hidden agenda.

“I’m not satisfied it was bandits, ma’am,” she replied calmly. She kept her hands braced on her belt; it felt more natural to keep them there, where she could reach her gun. Despite the mayor’s skirts and polite tone, it was hard not to feel as if it might come down to who had the faster draw.

“What do you mean?” the mayor demanded. “They killed my son, and the construction of the railroad must continue. When are you going to do your job and hunt them down?”

Maggie held her hands up, half shrug, half placation.

“The facts don’t add up. I think it had to have been someone he knew, and knew well. Can you tell me who that might have been?”

She’d hoped that the mayor would simply answer the question, but it had been a pipe dream at best.

“Are you calling into question the honesty of five separate men?” The mayor’s voice was growing more strident, and it took even more to keep Maggie from retreating.

“Five men who told me the exact same thing, sometimes word for word, as if they’d rehearsed it?” she asked in her best ‘please be reasonable even though I’m accusing you of lying’ voice. “Yes, I’m questioning it.”

The mayor’s eyes flashed.

“Very well.” She turned and stalked toward her desk at the other end of the room, leaving Maggie with a dry mouth and silent prayer of relief that she hadn’t put even more pressure on Maggie to blame the bandits. “What more can I do for you? What resources do you need?”

Maggie shrugged and stepped forward. It had the double effect of making her look confident and getting her closer to the door. She glanced at the clock standing in the corner of the room and read its face with dismay; she only had two hours to make it out to the pass, and she’d hoped to get there early for a chance at catching whoever had slipped the note under her door.

“Time, mostly. I’ll talk to more people, see if anyone saw or heard anything out of place. Could take a while,” Maggie warned.

The mayor nodded.

“You’re welcome to stay as my guest in this house while you work. I would hate for you to bear the cost of a room in the public house for so long, and it can’t be comfortable.”

Her eyes glinted, and Maggie swallowed. She’d expected the mayor to argue with her about staying so long, or about her refusal to raise a posse and bring the bandits in, especially after Alex had pushed to get her out of town as fast as possible. Somehow, the invitation to stay at her house was worse. Maggie couldn’t help but think of the note she’d gotten: _Lillian Luthor is lying._

“It’s comfortable enough for me, ma’am, thank you,” she answered.

The mayor nodded.

“As you wish. Please keep me apprised of any developments.”

“Of course.”

Maggie had never been happier to leave a house in her life, and she wouldn’t have traded the hot, dusty sunlight for the cool shade of the Luthor’s library if her life depended on it.

By the time she’d returned to the public house and saddled up her horse, the sun was nearly at its zenith. She rode faster than she had the day before. Even with the added speed, she did not expect the reach the pass much before noon.

Alex had pointed out the engineer’s wagon mentioned in the note the day before. It was essentially a mobile office that followed the railroad’s construction, allowing the engineers to store tools and plans without having to carry them around all the time. It accompanied the camp of workers that built their way across the state, following the contours of the planned railroad line. Although there were nearly eighty workers engaged for the site, none of them had made an appearance the day before due to the unplanned cessation of construction after the judge’s death. As such, she expected the engineer’s wagon and the pass were abandoned until the work resumed.

Of course, that also meant that whoever had sent the note was close enough to the railroad plans that they knew the wagon would be unpopulated for the day. Furthermore, they knew where she was staying; she would have thought of Alex or Lena Luthor, but both had better ways to get in touch than mysterious notes.

She had just passed the end of the completed tracks and was navigating off of memory when she heard shouts and horses whinnying up ahead. She kicked her horse into a canter and approached cautiously with her gun in hand.

When she rounded the next outcropping, she saw that the fight was four against one, with the one in question ten seconds away from being dragged off her horse and thrown to the ground.   

“Alex?”

“Little help here!” the call came back, just as one of the riders got a hand on Alex’s collar and yanked her out of the saddle.

Maggie urged her horse to a gallop, all caution thrown to the wind.

“Get off her! Hey!”

A shot echoed in the shallow canyon, and Maggie ducked.

“I’m the sheriff! Hold your fire!”

Another shot kicked up a puff of dust five feet away from her horse’s hooves, and the horse shied away. Maggie fought the urge to jump down and seek cover. When she’d gotten the horse under control again, she looked up and saw Alex running full-tilt towards her. More shots sounded, and Maggie fired back. She swore under her breath. The riders were hanging back, but they still had guns.

“Hold on!”

She urged her horse forward and leaned down to grab Alex as she ran up. The shots had begun to sound like pops, her ears ringing, so that even when Alex swung up behind her and screamed ‘go!’ just behind her head it registered as no more than a distant suggestion. Still, she wheeled the horse around and picked up speed until they were around the bend and away from the shots for the time being.

“What was that?” Maggie could feel herself shouting, but both her voice and Alex’s reply sounded muffled.

“Do you think they’re gone?” Alex had both hands around Maggie’s waist, but she detached one arm briefly to look back.

“What the _hell_ was that?” Maggie rephrased, with greater emphasis that time. Her hearing started to come back, but the ringing persisted.

“Luthor’s men. I don’t think she likes me poking around.” “Alex poked her in the side. “Could you stop for a second?”

“Shouldn't we be heading as fast as we can in the other direction?"

“I want to get my horse back if I can. She ran, but she’ll come if I call.”

Maggie slowed to a canter. She couldn’t hear anyone behind them, but she also wasn’t sure if that was because she couldn’t hear at all or if they really hadn’t been followed.

“So will those men.”

“Maybe, but then I’ll have a horse and I can get away faster.”

“Fine, do what you want.”

Maggie came to a walk, then swiveled in a move that had taken her nearly two weeks to master with Montoya, her old partner. It was supposedly in case an unwanted opponent ever made it up onto their horses, but really it had been out of sheer boredom when Gordon assigned them a quiet patrol after some infraction that Maggie had forgotten. It was the first time she’d used it on someone who didn’t know what was coming, so it was especially satisfying when she felt solid contact and heard an ‘oof!’ from behind her as Alex hit the ground.

“That was extremely rude,” Alex informed her as she brushed herself off. Maggie caught her wince, and regretted pushing her.

“So is calling me into gunfire,” Maggie shot back. She scanned the way they’d come, but still heard no signs that they were being followed or ambushed. “Hurry up.”

Alex shook her head, put her fingers in her mouth, and whistled so loudly that Maggie desperately wanted to cover her still-damaged ears. After a short wait, hoofbeats sounded and a dun-colored mare rounded the corner.

Alex hopped up with some effort and looked back at Maggie.

“You coming?”

Maggie nodded.

“I want an explanation.”

Alex nodded back.

“I’ll tell you what I know. Follow me.”

* * *

 

After a while, Maggie realized two things: the first, that Alex was still leading her to Midvale Pass, albeit by a much more indirect route than she’d planned, and the second, that Alex was sitting her horse suspiciously stiffly. Maggie sped up until she could fall in beside the Pinkerton agent’s horse.

“You’re hurt,” she pointed out.

“Not badly.”

“Let me look.”

Alex shied away.

“No.”

Maggie maneuvered back to her side and got as close as possible.

“Let me look!” she demanded.

Alex fended her off with her right hand, coming perilously close to falling off the horse for the third time that day.

“I’m a doctor, I can handle it. Besides, it was them, not you; you don’t have to feel guilty.”

Maggie gave up trying to bully her into it, at least while they were still riding. She bypassed the suggestion that she only cared because she was afraid she was responsible for the injury, and went straight for a distracting topic.

“I thought being a doctor was your cover.”

Alex avoided her eyes.

“The best lies are the truth.”

“So when you said you left your license in your other saddlebag—”

“I don’t usually carry it around with me.”

“Ah.”

They rode in silence for a few beats, while Maggie continued to look at Alex and Alex looked anywhere else.

“I think there’s at least one rib bruised or cracked, but nothing’s broken. Probably.”

Maggie smiled genuinely.

“Small victories. What’s the treatment for that?”

“Wrap it to make sure it doesn’t move.”

“Need help?” Maggie offered.

“Why, Sheriff Sawyer—” Alex made eye contact for the first time since Maggie had noticed her injury, and it was with a full-fledged shit-eating grin on her face.

Maggie scowled, leaned over, and slapped Alex’s shoulder.

“Ow! You’re terrible at medical care, I’ll do it myself.”

Maggie laughed despite herself.

Alex fell silent after that, until they reached an area that Maggie recognized as close to the planned railroad line through the pass.

“We should probably go on foot,” Alex suggested quietly. Maggie followed her lead and, as silently as possible, tied her horse to a low bush and fell in behind Alex. “And then we should lay low for a while. If it were me, I’d ambush us on the road back to town, but if we wait they may go elsewhere.”

The engineer’s wagon had been placed in a notch in the side of the rising hill, so that it was partially protected from the wind and other elements. Alex produced a key and unlocked the crude door that had been fitted to the rear of the carriage.

“Where’d you get that?” Maggie asked.

“The mayor.”

“She didn’t give me one,” Maggie grumbled.

Alex smirked.

“Maybe you didn’t ask nicely enough.”

Maggie followed Alex into the wagon, but paused in the door. She had scanned the ground outside, and did the same inside the wagon. There was nothing that stuck out as a piece of incriminating evidence placed there, just waiting for an industrious sheriff to come along and claim it.

“What were you doing out this way, anyhow?” Maggie asked. It had crossed her mind more than once that Alex might have been out this way to leave information in the wagon; she watched Alex's face carefully for a sign that it had been she that left the note. 

Alex eyed her and eased down onto the bench that spanned the right wall of the wagon.

“I got a note,” she said finally. “It said I should come out here.”

Maggie hesitated, but ultimately decided against obfuscation.

“I did too.”

“ ‘ _Lillian Luthor is lying’_?” Alex quoted.

Maggie nodded.

“What do you think it means?” she asked.

Alex shrugged.

“I’d say it means she knows who killed Lex.”

“Sure sounds like it.”

Alex eased out of her duster and began to unbutton her waistcoat. Maggie hadn’t seen her without it once since they’d met, but it seemed she was about to.

“Need help with that?” she asked when Alex winced and stopped halfway out of the vest.

“I’ve got it in hand.”

“Clearly, you don’t.”

“Shut up and help, then.”

Maggie sat down next to Alex, who tilted away so she could grab the back of Alex’s vest and slip it down her waiting arms.

“So, how does a doctor end up working for the Pinkertons?” Maggie inquired.

Alex kept her back to Maggie, but her elbows worked as if she were undoing buttons.

“Lust for adventure?” Alex ventured.

“No, really.”

“I’m not great with patients,” Alex admitted. She tried to pull her sleeves down and released a gasping breath. “Too many men crushed from working on railroads, or from cattle. Too many women dying in childbirth. I’d rather work in a job where I can do some good, not just watch people die.”

Maggie helped with the shirt too, keeping her eyes trained carefully on the collar and not the skin below it.

“I’d say doctors do a sight more than just watch people die.”

“Maybe some doctors do. I didn’t. Can you hold this up?” Alex gestured at her chemise, which was short to accommodate her pants. She had untucked it, and Maggie reached out and lifted the material carefully until Alex’s ribs were exposed. Her fingers brushed Alex’s side, and the other woman flinched.

“Sorry,” Maggie murmured.

Alex didn’t answer, but produced a length of fabric and passed it back to Maggie. Maggie pulled it around one-handed and passed it back around Alex’s left, resulting in a rhythm back and forth.

“So how does anyone become a sheriff?”

Maggie grinned.

“Seems like that’s a more sensible career path than medical school and the Pinkertons,” she teased.

“Maybe.”

“My father was a deputy.”

“Family business?” Alex asked lightly.

“Something like that.”

“You work together?”

Maggie passed the tail end around Alex’s ribs once more. Alex tucked it in, and Maggie left the chemise fall to Alex’s waist.

“No, he—he threw me out when I joined.”

She wished that wasn’t the moment that Alex turned back around and she had to look at her, but it was.

“That’s harsh.”

Maggie shrugged and busied herself smoothing the fabric of Alex’s shirt before she handed it back.

“Didn’t think a woman belonged in this line of work.” Maggie shook her head and the memory out of her mind. “But now I’m sheriff, so. I guess he was wrong.”

Alex took the shirt as it was handed to her and gingerly eased her arm in.

“I’ll drink to that.”

Maggie reached around and helped pull the shirt up around her shoulders. She glanced up and found Alex’s face much closer than it had been before.

“Do you have a flask?” she asked.

Alex returned Maggie’s smile.

“Never without.”

Maggie settled back, reminding herself silently that Alex was not a friend, or anything more than a tentative ally, until this was all over. 

"Good. Then you can tell me what's going on in Midvale." 

Alex's smile dimmed, but didn't disappear altogether. 

"I'll tell you everything I know." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie spends more time with Alex in slightly alarming circumstances; she then discovers what Alex is really doing in Midvale and what the mayor has planned.

After some discussion, Maggie gave in to Alex’s insistence that they remain out of Midvale until they could re-enter under cover of darkness. Maggie brought the horses to the trickle of water that had carved the gully they sat in while Alex assessed their food and drink options. There was the remains of a cord of wood stacked outside, covered by waxed canvas, and a pot and ground coffee hidden in the wagon’s jockey box. When Maggie returned, Alex had started a fire and was brewing the thickest coffee Maggie had ever seen.

“How much coffee did you put in there?” Maggie asked after tying the horses to the wagon with long leads, leaning over the pot Alex had produced from inside the wagon. It had already been stained with the grounds of previous brews, so they could safely assume that this was its intended use.

“Just drink it,” Alex replied with mock-exasperation. She scooped out a cupful and produced some cold water, which she poured into the boiling-hot cup to settle the grounds. She joined Maggie in sitting on the back of the wagon.

Maggie complied with a wince, and immediately turned red.

“I’ve had cowboy coffee before,” she wheezed, “but _that_ is tar. Are you sure that’s coffee? Or did you get it from the grease bucket next to the wheel?”

Alex frowned, poured her own cup, and sipped at it carefully.

“It’s fine! Best coffee I ever made!”

Maggie placed her cup on the ground gingerly.

“I’d hate to taste the other coffee you’ve made, then.”

“Ungrateful _and_ doesn’t know good coffee when she tastes it,” Alex groused. “Just wait ‘til it cools down, if you’re such a coward.”

“Good taste is not cowardly.”

“Finicky then.”

Maggie shoved Alex in the shoulder.

“So,” she began again, “you promised to tell me what you know. _Everything_ you know,” she added before Alex could even start speaking.

Alex winced.

“I’m sorry if you feel I’ve kept things from you,” she started, glancing at Maggie. “My job sometimes requires me to work outside the law; I’m not used to cooperating with the sheriff. Much less liking one,” she laughed, then stopped suddenly.

Maggie eyed her curiously. Alex cleared her throat.

“The Luthors were run out of Metropolis a few years ago. They’ve resurfaced and done well, enough so that my employees felt comfortable investing when they announced the construction of a new branch of the railroad. They couldn’t get much government funding, so they had to convince private investors. You’ve met Lillian Luthor; her son was even more persuasive.”

Alex took another gulp of her coffee; it seemed she did actually like it that thick.

“And the bandits?” Maggie pressed.

Alex shrugged.

“Probably local landowners. The Luthors were pretty heavy-handed when they went around buying the land for the railway line, and they stepped on a lot of toes.”

“That would explain why they only attack the railroad.”

“Exactly,” Alex agreed. “They were getting bolder, that’s when I was hired. I’d just gotten to town when Lex was shot, so I stayed outside of town for a few days, then showed up claiming to be the medical examiner.”

“Any idea why they turned murderous all of a sudden?”

Alex shrugged again.

“Anger, most likely. Spur-of-the-moment. It was a bad move, and they have to know that. But I doubt you’ll ever find out which one it was.”

Maggie sighed and stretched her legs out in front of her.

“Doubtful. But it doesn’t mean I can’t try. And if the bandits are still here, they need to be stopped. I understand what they’re trying to do, but I can’t countenance vengeance.”

“So it’s vengeance unless it’s your hand, then it’s justice?” Alex asked. Bitterness had crept into her tone, and Maggie wondered what crime against her and hers had put it there.

“The extent of vengeance is dictated by the person who exacts it. The law applies the same to all people, or at least my law does. That’s justice. Vengeance is payback, usually with a little extra, and that never ends.”

Alex nodded and leaned back on her arms.

“There hasn’t been an attack since the shooting. I think it scared them. They won’t come back around.”

“I don’t know about that. Nothing’s changed as far as the railroad’s concerned,” Maggie argued.

Alex shifted.

“I’ll be here until the railway line gets through the pass. After that, Midvale’s of no interest to me. I can keep an eye on things, send you a message if you wanted to go back to National City.”

Maggie studied Alex.

“What’s in it for you?”

Alex startled.

“For me?” she repeated.

“Why do you want me to leave town, Alex?”

She looked Alex straight in the eye, but Maggie could not read the emotion written there at all.

“No reason for you to stay, that’s all,” Alex rejoined quietly. “I’m sure you’re needed back in National City.”

Maggie held Alex’s eyes for a little longer, but the Pinkerton agent gave nothing away.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Maggie murmured.

Alex grinned.

“I’m a _great_ liar,” she boasted.

Maggie looked away, back towards town.

“That’s what I’m worried about.” And why she was still in town.

 

* * *

 

 

The wait for dark went surprisingly quickly; Alex was good company, with many nigh-unbelievable stories. Maggie returned in kind, regaling her with tales of her deputy days and criminals she’d encountered. Through it all, she let her suspicions about Alex fall further back in her mind, until she was simply enjoying the companionship.

It was easy enough to enjoy the lightly-traded banter; easier still to notice how Alex leaned closer as time wore on, how she let her hand fall on Maggie’s arm when she laughed at a joke. How her eyes burned with something indescribable when they met Maggie’s. Maggie returned the touches, and the glances, until silence fell and the only way she could stop looking at Alex’s bright eyes was to glance at her mouth instead. When her eyes returned to Alex’s, she saw an understanding there, one that made her inch a little closer along the back of the wagon.

Her heart was thundering, as if this were the first time she’d ever kissed a woman, loud in her ears and blocking out everything else, getting louder—

Or was that—hoofbeats?

 “Alex! The mayor’s gathering a posse, they’re coming for us—”

A mounted blonde whirlwind rounded the hill’s rise at a breakneck pace and threw herself from her horse so violently that Maggie jumped.

“What—”

Matters fell into place with a sickening jolt, but Maggie resisted the realization for a little bit longer. Despite the doubt she struggled to hang onto, she jumped down from the wagon and began to back away, towards where she’d tied her horse.

“Alex, you have ten words to convince me you haven’t been lying this entire time.”

“Maggie—”

“You brought the sheriff here?” Kara broke in, clearly not patient enough to wait while Alex defended what was now an obvious ruse.

Maggie looked at the way that Kara was dressed, in dark clothing, and at the rags tied to her horse’s hooves so it would be near-silent if moving slowly enough. She looked at the half-apologetic expression on Alex’s face and let the realization that had been lapping at the back of her mind wash to the front.

“You’re the bandits.”

“No, it’s not—” Alex tried, but Maggie cut her off.

“You killed a _judge_!”

“No, we didn’t, I can explain—”

Alex moved closer to her, but Maggie drew her pistol and set about untying her horse one-handed.

“Save it.”

“Maggie—”

“Stay back!”

“Alex, she’s serious.” Kara turned to Maggie. “You can’t take us both in. Not alone.”

Maggie glared at her and switched hands so that her pistol was in her off-hand. It was less to threaten, and more to prevent Alex trying to come any closer. She jumped onto her horse as quickly as she could before holstering her weapon.

“I don’t have proof, and I won’t lead a witch hunt,” she told them. “But if you did it, so help me, I will put you behind bars.”

With that, she turned her horse away, ready to take the short way back to Midvale.

“Maggie!” Alex called behind her, even as Maggie could hear Kara urging her not to follow.

“Don’t be here when I get back,” Maggie returned over her shoulder, and kicked her horse into the fastest gallop she dared in the dark.

 

* * *

 

 

The moon guided Maggie back to Midvale, where its light was overtaken by the glimmer of torches. Maggie pulled to a halt but stayed high on her horse, where she could scan the loosely-gathered crowd of men (and not a few women). Some carried the torches, while others held the bridles of horses or gestured to others to gather into small groups; almost all were armed with either pistols or shotguns.

“Sheriff Sawyer!”

Maggie tore her eyes away from the spectacle before her at the sound of the mayor’s voice.

“What is this?” she demanded, swinging down from her horse. Almost as soon as she did, she wished she hadn’t; her diminutive stature relative to the mayor’s height put her at an instant disadvantage in any confrontation, no matter that it was verbal.

“Your posse,” the mayor answered, stepping down from her front porch. Her eyes burned, too, but not with hope like Alex’s. Lillian Luthor’s eyes glittered with vicious victory.

“I told you, I don’t need one yet,” Maggie argued. She'd hoped for a few men with good heads on their shoulders, not a mob with murder on their minds. “Tell them to go home.” She knew, no matter how much she wished it weren’t so, that they would listen to the mayor all night long before they’d mind her for a minute.

“Sheriff—”

“You have no proof!” Maggie exploded. “I won’t be your henchman—”

“I was hoping to avoid this,” the mayor interrupted smoothly. She bent, and pulled a shotgun from a canvas bag on the porch. “My men found this in that Jones woman’s room, along with my son’s pistol. I know they’re no help in a court of law, but—” she shrugged elegantly, and the gun swung dangerously close to pointing at Maggie, “perhaps they’ll convince you that there’s no need to take the matter that far.”

Maggie’s mouth hung open as she stood, speechless.

“She—”

“She’s one of them, and if she didn’t kill my son herself, she certainly helped. They’ll all hang before morning,” the mayor informed her in crisp tones.

“I’m the sheriff, and I’m taking them in,” Maggie said desperately, though she tried not to show it. “They’ll be tried in National City.”

The mayor stepped closer, looking down her nose at Maggie.

“My family hasn’t always been well-loved, but no one likes outlaws. Especially ones that have wreaked so much havoc with the livestock, the crops…” She smiled. “I had no trouble raising a group to take care of them.”

“You said they only hit the railroad!” Maggie shot back. Her mind was going a hundred miles an hour as she raced to catch up to every new piece of information and its many implications.

The mayor’s smile widened. She was _enjoying_ this.

“Did I? It must have slipped my mind.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Maggie snarled. She’d been turned into a cliché small-town sheriff in more ways than one: bumbling around, accusing the wrong people, bamboozled by every criminal who winked her way… A bad parting line was simply to be expected, at that point.

“Away with what?”

The mayor shrugged expansively and turned to climb the steps of her porch. Behind her, Maggie saw the shadow of the mayor’s daughter hovering at the door.

“I’ll—” Maggie started hopelessly.

“You’ll what?” The mayor turned back, and Maggie was keenly aware of the gun she held. “Accuse the most prominent family in the county? With no proof, and no _real_ idea what’s happened here?”

Maggie’s heart sank; it was all true.

“After consorting with a known criminal, no less?” the mayor continued, and Maggie’s heart sank further. “She’ll hang, along with everyone with her, and you too if you come waving that badge around again.” She stepped closer, and Maggie had to fight the urge to flinch. “If I were you, I’d run back to National City. You’ve worn out your welcome here.”

She turned her back once again, dismissive to the last. Maggie assumed that she was going to climb to the porch and drink in the sight of her mob, pitchforks and all, before rallying them for the kill, but didn’t stop to watch. She ran back to her horse and swung into the saddle. If she couldn’t stop the mob, at least she could give Alex and Kara some warning, and maybe misdirect their pursuers.

 

* * *

 

 

Maggie pushed her horse even harder than she had on the way into town, if that were possible. Cool wind whipped at her face, throwing dust, gravel, and errant strands of hair into her face. One-handed, she pulled the kerchief around her neck up around her mouth and nose.

As she grew closer, she glanced behind her. There were no signs of the mob, yet, and she sighed. There might still be time, even if Alex and Kara hadn’t left yet.

Suddenly, an enormous _BOOM_ shook the ground, nearly throwing Maggie from her horse as it shied. She hauled the horse’s head around and coaxed it into a canter approaching the engineering site.

 “Alex!” she called as she neared the wagon.

She saw movement at the back of the wagon, and leapt off her horse. It was Alex, limping forward, covered in dust, and leaning on Kara’s arm.

“Nobody’s hurt! It’s fine—” Alex started.

Lanterns rose over the lip of the hill behind the wagon, and Alex fell silent.

“Stop! Don’t move!” a booming voice called. Dimly-lit figures on horseback accompanied the lanterns; at a glance, Maggie thought she recognized some of the men who had accompanied Lex Luthor on his final ride. These were the mayor’s hired thugs, not townspeople.

Maggie started forward, her pistol drawn.

She heard someone shout “don’t—” but not soon enough. There was a _bang_ , and Maggie fell over backwards. She felt as if she’d been kicked in the shoulder, hard, but when she lifted a hand to check the spot, it came away damp with blood.

“Maggie!”

“I said don’t _move_!”

The voice came from Maggie's right, and she turned to look. There was another group behind her horse, in the direction from which she'd come; she'd have bet anything that there was another on their other side, too.

They were surrounded.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie's been shot, so even when she gets a lot more puzzle pieces, it's going to be a lot of work to put them together.

Maggie blinked. Nope, still surrounded.

She tugged at the kerchief still around her face and managed to pull it loose. Keeping a keen eye out for the men with guns around her, she set about tying the fabric around the hole that had just been blown in her right shoulder.

It helped to think about it in direct, emotionless terms. Plug the hole, or you’ll die. Cheerful, yet to the point.  

“That’s the sheriff,” she heard one of the men announce. “I recognize her.”

“That’s right, you just shot the sheriff,” Kara added with a bravado Maggie could admire. “You should get out of here before she recognizes you well enough to hunt you down.”

Maggie looked up from her bandages just in time to see Alex cuff Kara in the arm.

“The sheriff, huh?” One of the men at the top of the hill made his way down, neatly slotting into Maggie’s mental checklist next to the tag ‘head thug.’ “She already knows more than is good for her.”

Maggie was losing blood at a somewhat alarming pace, but what remained in her body suddenly ran cold.

“Shoot them all. Make it look like they did it to each other.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Maybe it was the new wound adorning her shoulder, but Maggie was finding it very difficult to follow who exactly was speaking in the dark. The voice wasn’t Alex, and it didn’t really sound like Kara either, but it _was_ a woman.

“You just shot the sheriff, and my mother is going to be arrested for the murder of my brother.”

Lena Luthor. Well, that was exciting, or it would have been if Maggie were having an easier time hanging on to consciousness.

Apparently, Alex agreed, because she took advantage of the tide’s turn to run to Maggie. She tore off her coat and used it to compress Maggie’s shoulder.

"Hold that there," she instructed, and set about tearing her vest into strips. 

“Do you think you’ll get paid?” Lena continued. Maggie craned her neck to see her, but couldn’t; she must have been behind the men who’d arrived last. “Because I wouldn’t count on it. And if you stay here much longer, we’re going to remember your faces. I don’t imagine the sheriff will rest until you’re behind bars, and my mother won’t be around to defend you. Or, again, pay you. So it’s really not worth your while.”

It was a speech to be proud of; Maggie was particularly fond of the way she’d brought things back around to the part about getting paid. She found it the most compelling, and suspected that the hired guns would as well.

They did, it seemed, because apart from some terse, muffled speech, the next thing Maggie heard was the sound of hoofbeats retreating.

“Did you—” Kara started.

“Yes, I found it in time. I moved it and detonated out in the open.” Maggie heard footsteps in the sandy dirt. “Is she alright?”

Lena entered her field of vision, and Maggie realized she had shifted until she was laying across Alex’s lap. The tourniquet Alex had fashioned from her own clothing was working much better than Maggie’s attempt, and she pushed herself to sitting. Dizzy, but still conscious; a victory.

“I’ll live,” Maggie answered hoarsely. “Was it Lillian?”

“How do you think she got the shotgun?” Kara rejoined from somewhere behind Lena. She sounded uncertain. 

Something didn’t add up, but Maggie was in too much pain to think about what it was. She turned to Alex.

“You should run.”

“No, we—”

Alex shook her head, and Maggie put a hand in her face to stop her from talking.

“I can’t arrest you like this, and I can’t stop the men from town coming for you. But if you go, _now_ , I can divert them to Lillian and her men. I can give you time,” she argued.

“I—”

Alex looked at her, wide-eyed.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

“She’s right,” Maggie heard Lena say. “I’ll stay until they’ve almost reached us, but I can’t be found here, and neither can you. Go to the—”

Lena stopped speaking, and from Alex’s expression, Maggie gathered that there was some kind of miming going on behind her.

“I won’t look for you,” she said wearily, edging away from Alex. Lena appeared and helped her to her feet. “I don’t care where you go. As far as I’m concerned, Lillian Luthor and her men are responsible for almost every crime here, and damage to the railroad isn’t worth your lives. Go.”

“Maggie—”

“Go,” Maggie repeated, looking Alex directly in the eye.

Alex looked torn, but Kara pulled at her arm and she relented.

“I’ll come find you,” she promised in a hoarse whisper.

“Sure.” Maggie smiled. “Come find me. It’s a big building, says ‘National City Regional Jail’ on it in big letters. Can’t miss it.”

Alex limped away behind Kara. They mounted their horses, Alex with some help, and rode away, striking out in the same direction as the mayor’s men. Maggie could only hope that they had truly gone, and not stayed to pick them off.

The wind whistled down the suddenly empty, silent gap between the hills.

“You'd better sit down again. You’re still losing blood, you should see a doctor as soon as you can.”

“Help me on my horse, then,” Maggie argued.

Lena looked her over.

“You’d fall off before they got here,” she judged coolly. “I’ll help you up before I leave, if that makes you feel better.” She poked at Maggie’s shoulder sharply.

“That hurts!” Maggie exclaimed, pulling back.

“At least you still have feeling in your arm," Lena answered, unrepentant. 

Astounding, a charmer, and with a nice bedside manner. Even if she didn’t like Alex as much as she did, she would have much preferred her attentions to those of Lena Luthor.

“Why are you here?” she griped. Anything to distract from the pain radiating up her shoulder and across her back.

“You mean, why aren’t I with my mother?” Lena countered.

Maggie braced herself against the ground and sat up a little more.

“Well, yeah.”

“We don’t want the same things,” Lena told her. She sounded studiously disinterested, as if recounting something that had happened to someone else.

“No?” Maggie replied. “I would have thought you’d say something about how killing your brother was too far.”

Lena turned away even more, ostensibly to check the horizon for signs of the approaching mob.

“Lex was far from perfect.”

Maggie raised an eyebrow to that neutral answer.

“He was your brother. You’re awfully stoic about the whole thing.”

Lena shrugged.

“I’ve had longer to assimilate the truth than you have. And family isn’t everything,” she told the star-studded sky stretching into the rocky desert.

“I don’t think I’ve got the truth yet, somehow,” Maggie mused.

“That’s true.”

“So tell me what happened,” she shot back. Maybe it was the pain, but the patience she prided herself on when getting to the bottom of things was fast drying up.

“I suppose a bullet in the shoulder is a good argument for you deserving some version of what happened,” Lena admitted, looking back over her shoulder.

“Damn straight.”

Lena crouched next to Maggie, keeping her eyes on the bandage on Maggie’s shoulder. Up closer, Maggie noticed that she was wearing men’s clothing cut down to her size, topped by a duster that was far too large for her. It pooled on the ground around her, but it was clear that even standing, it would drag. Maggie wondered if it had belonged to her dead brother.

“Do you know what kryptonite is?” Lena asked after a moment.

“No.”

Lena nodded, unsurprised.

“It’s a rare mineral, found only in very specific environmental conditions. It has a host of military applications.”

“Conditions like those around Midvale?” Maggie hazarded.

Lena’s mouth quirked.

“Very like, as a matter of fact.”

“And?”

Her answer came spilling out, as if it were a relief to finally tell someone. Maggie wondered if Alex and Kara knew this, too, or if they had gotten involved in some other way.

“And if someone were to buy up the land around here, perhaps under the government-sanctioned guise of building a railroad, but didn’t report the mineral’s presence, they could perform their own research and development outside the government’s purview.”

“And you don’t approve.”

Lena laughed bitterly and shook her head.

“No, I don’t. Furthermore, I disapprove of any scheme that involves killing the engineers involved.”

Maggie frowned.

“The blast earlier?”

“—yes.”

“How would harassing the railroad line’s construction help to stop those plans?” Maggie wondered. She still wasn’t sure how Alex and Kara figured in.

“It wouldn’t. In fact, it would be exactly what someone might want, if they had land for a railroad that they wanted for another purpose.”

Maggie had the distinct feeling that she was missing something that Lena very possibly wanted her to know, but she was having a mess of trouble strong-arming the pieces together in her mind.

“So—” she dragged out the sound, unsure where to go from there.

Lena’s head swung around, and she stood suddenly, looking alertly back towards town.

“They’re coming. I have to go.”

Maggie nodded.

“I’ll send them back to town.”

Lena clicked her tongue, and a horse shod with the same muffling rags as Kara’s had been earlier walked to meet her. Lena swung up, then found Maggie’s eyes.

“Til we meet again, sheriff.”

Maggie lifted a hand to tip her hat, but realized that that particular article of clothing had been lost somewhere between Midvale and where she now sat in the sandy gravel. By the time she had followed this thought through to its conclusion, Lena was on her way, and Maggie settled for a half-hearted wave. Lena didn’t look back.

Bare seconds later, louder hoofbeats sounded from the other direction. Maggie used her good arm to scramble to a stand; Lena hadn’t helped her up, after all. Even standing, Maggie barely came up to the shoulders of the horses that carried Midvale’s finest posse to her, and she channeled everything she had into standing straight and looking commanding. At least her badge still hung at her hip, and glinted in the fire from the torches and lanterns that lit the way for the warlike band.

Murmurs of ‘that’s the sheriff, from National City’ rose from the back, but the face of the leader-presumptive was hard as stone and twice as still. When he spoke, his voice was gravely and short.

“Which way, ma’am?”

“What’s your name?” Maggie tried. She prayed that a raised chin and an imperious tone would be enough.

“Sam Lane, ma’am. I own half the land hereabouts.” He gestured to his side, where a fiery-eyed woman held reins in one hand and a rifle in the other. “This is m’daughter, Lucy.”

“Mr. Lane, I’m deputizing you and your daughter.” Lane’s face didn’t change, but his horse shifted beneath him. His daughter glanced at him. “Arrest Lillian Luthor. Don’t let her leave town.”

“But the bandits—”

“Are not my first concern,” Maggie interjected. His accedence depended on whether or not her next words convinced him of the urgency of the matter. “The charges are conspiracy to commit murder, fraud, and possibly treason.”

She frowned. She was losing her thoughts to her shoulder, which pulled her attention away in waves. “No, don’t say the last one yet. I have to think about it.” She shook her head and turned to the daughter, who seemed a little more convinced. “Where was the mayor when you left town, Deputy?”

“At her house,” the woman responded. Behind her, muttering was beginning, and one woman shouted ‘I knew she was bent!’

Maggie just hoped the woman was referring to the mayor, and not to Maggie herself. Lucy Lane continued after a pause.

“Probably with some of her hired men by now; we met them heading back into town on our way here.”

Maggie nodded, addressing both Lanes. She had everyone’s attention, at least.

“Then I need you to ride fast. She might already be gone.” Father and daughter nodded, and Lane wheeled his horse around and began to direct the others. Maggie raised her voice a little more, and winced at the effort. “Does anyone have experience with gunshot wounds? I could use some assistance.”

“Jimmy?” Lucy Lane called. A tall man on a rugged pony separated from the group, looking almost comical as he unfolded himself from horseback. He dwarfed Maggie; for a minute, she almost thought she had to be sitting again, instead of standing at her full height.

“Corporal James Olsen, ma'am, formerly the 10th Cavalry Regiment. Can I look at your shoulder?” He gestured at the improvised bandage on Maggie’s shoulder.

“Sure, Colonel," Maggie rejoined gamely. 

The tall man smiled down at her. 

"It's just James, ma'am." 

"Then it's just Maggie."

James nodded and went to work. While his steady hands gently peeled apart the layers of fabric at her shoulder, Maggie watched the band of horses and angry small-town residents hurry away, back again to challenge the serpent that had wormed her way into their community.

James finished and tied up the fabric again.

“Whoever wrapped this knew what they were doing, but I can rewrap it in a clean bandage, and you should see a real doctor. I’ll call for one from National City. Think you can ride?”

Maggie wanted nothing more than to lay down, but barring the engineers’ wagon, there wasn’t a clean horizontal surface closer than Midvale.

“Do I have a choice?” she asked.

James laughed.

After an embarrassingly long time, she made it onto her horse with James’s help, and they began a slow walk towards Midvale. Much as she wanted to focus on how she was going to make sure that the mayor paid for her crimes, or find her if she’d managed to flee before the posse returned, she found that all she could think of was her bed at the hotel.

Sleep, then, and back to work in the morning; maybe once the brain fog had passed, she’d be able to puzzle out how the hell the whole thing fit together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was going to include the epilogue, but it was long enough already, so there will be one more chapter where final questions will (hopefully) be answered, and we'll find out what happens to Maggie and Alex. Comments about what you'd like included in the epilogue would be appreciated, because I certainly don't want to miss anything! Thanks for reading so far!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie returns to National City, and gets the rest of the puzzle pieces.

Maggie completed the document she was filling in, placed it on the towering stack to her right, and sighed as she contemplated the even higher stack to her left. She’d had a week’s recuperation in Midvale, trying to document evidence and avoid the National City doctor that kept trying to stuff her into her bed to ‘let the joint rest.’ Now that she’d returned, all her other duties bore down on her more urgently than ever.

“Another telegram from Midvale, ma’am,” Winn volunteered, handing her the fluttery piece of paper.

Maggie glared at him, and he quailed.

“Maggie, I mean. Not ma’am. You’re too young to—I mean, you _look_ too—that is—”

More glaring finally shut him up. He backed away, then fled to the outer office.

Maggie tore open the thin envelope and read the message again. She’d left Midvale’s telegraph operator with an open account in her name so that the Lanes could send updates. It turned out that while Sam was decent at rousing men to torches and pitchforks, his daughter was the cooler head when it came to putting together a criminal case. It was generally she that sent Maggie updates, and indeed, the message this morning was from her. It confirmed what Maggie had feared; there were no indications of where Lillian Luthor had gone, and no more signs of the ‘bandits’ that had plagued the railroad.

She learned more from the daily papers, though it had more to do with Lena than with Lillian. Following her brother’s death and her mother’s outstanding warrant for arrest, the overlooked daughter had become the sole heir and proprietor of Luthor and Sons Incorporated. Within a week, she had announced her intentions to change the name of the company, and to continue the railroad line in her brother’s name. Although she only read it in the smudged print of a newspaper, Maggie fancied she could hear the young woman’s sardonic tone in the quote the newspaper had managed to nab.

_“The railroad is the reason he died, and I can think of no more fitting memorial but that it should continue when he cannot.”_

The article went on to specify that an engine was to be named in the late judge’s honor, and then to speculate on the projects that Lena Luthor’s new company was rumored to be presenting at the next year’s World’s Fair in Philadelphia.

Even more interesting, to Maggie at least, was the letter that had arrived soon after she read the extensive article. In it, Lucy Lane had noted that a stranger to town, a blonde-haired woman in men’s clothing, had been coming to town regularly since Lillian fled. She was often there several days at a time, but never took a room at the public house. She was, however, often seen with Lena Luthor, and the rumors were that she stayed at the house.

Besides that, Maggie had no more information than she’d had when Lena Luthor rode away into the dark that night. Though she’d tried to talk to the woman several times, Miss Luthor was adamant that she knew nothing, and was not involved at all. The first time, Maggie had only to hint that she might implicate Lena in some of the proceedings, and Lena had stiffened.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she’d said icily. “I was here; every servant in the house will swear to it. You must have been seeing things.” She’d stared pointedly at Maggie’s shoulder, and Maggie had let the matter drop. She had a suspicion, but no proof, and in the end it seemed to be almost as Alex had said; justice had been served, as near as she could see, without the help of the law.

The law was, at the present moment, wholeheartedly sick of the whole matter, and particularly of being kept in the dark.

The law might also be feeling a bit abandoned by a certain bandit who had promised to find her and explain everything.

“Winn, why aren’t crimes straightforward like in those penny novels you read?” she asked, sauntering into the outer office.

“Because straightforward criminals get caught,” he returned without looking up from the letter he was penning. “And they cost a nickel, at least.”

Maggie shrugged.

“I’m headed home for the night. Lock the door when you leave, please.”

With that, she set her hat on her head and headed out the door.

* * *

 

The rest of the evening passed as most did; she took her dinner in the saloon down the street, where she knew nearly everyone and could flirt without fear of serious attachment or of causing offense.

By the time she arrived at her boarding-house, she was ready to unwrap the bandage to let her wound air while she slept and fall into bed. But the moment she opened the door, she sensed a shift in the usually still air of her empty rooms.

“Maggie?”

Maggie relaxed, but left her hand on the butt of her pistol as Alex stepped into the light from the window.

“Alex. You know, when you said you’d come find me, I assumed it would be sooner.”

Alex had the decency to look abashed.

“I had some—things to take care of.”

“Quitting the Pinkertons?”

“Well, actually—”

“You never worked for them at all.”

Alex winced.

“Yeah.”

“And your name isn’t Alexandra Jones.”

“No.” Alex waited for Maggie to continue, but added on quickly when Maggie gestured impatiently. “It’s Danvers, Alex Danvers.”

Maggie headed to the cupboard and pulled down two glasses and her reserve bottle of whiskey.

“So why trust me now?”

Alex took the glass that was offered her and took a big slug before sitting in the chair that Maggie gestured her towards.

Maggie followed her, but sat opposite. On any other night, and certainly with any other guest, she would have lit the fire, lit lamps, instead of allowing the room to remain cloaked in the dark. For this conversation, though, and with Alex, Maggie somehow felt that a night lit only by the moon was more appropriate.

Alex thought for a minute. Maggie watched carefully, and so saw the shift in Alex’s face just before she leaned in an spoke again.

“What were you thinking? When you rode up that night.”

Maggie gestured with the hand holding her glass.

“I was thinking—that I could warn you, maybe. Or somehow convince you to let me arrest you and take you in myself. Or misdirect them. Anything.” It was an honest answer; she wasn’t quite sure what she’d thought was going to happen. She’d just fixated on the fact that Alex and Kara did not deserve killing.

“Anything?” Alex asked softly.

“Hanging wasn’t justice.” Maggie punctuated the certainty in her words with a sip of her whiskey.

“Well, I’m glad you think so.” Alex sat back a bit, but her eyes were still intense. “I do trust you. I’m not sure why.”

Maggie smiles wryly.

“I’ve got one of those faces.”

“That must be it.”

“I have to ask—have you seen or heard from Lillian Luthor?” She didn’t really expect an affirmative, and she didn’t receive one.

“No. Why would I have?”

“Has Miss Luthor?” Maggie tried again.

“Lena?”

The name came out involuntarily, and a slight wince passed across Alex’s face.

“I assume Kara would have told you. The mayor didn’t seem well-intentioned towards her daughter,” Maggie explained with some devilishness. Let Alex be one step behind for once.

“Kara?” Alex asked in confusion.

“Has been to see Miss Luthor several times since Mrs. Luthor disappeared. You know that.”

Alex put her drink down on the ground next to her chair, despite the presence of a side table directly to her right.

“Yes, but how do _you_ know that?”

Maggie’s grin got wider.

“Not nice, is it? Feeling left in the dark.”

“That’s fair.” Alex relaxed in her seat. “You’ve got the broad strokes right, as far as I can tell.”

Maggie sighed and began to reel off what she’d learned.

“The mayor was defrauding investors in a railroad she never wanted built, and using the money to fund illegal research into weapons-grade minerals.”

“Exactly,” Alex nodded.

“I understand the first crime. But I went to Midvale to solve the judge’s murder, and I’m damned if I can figure it out. If the judge was an accomplice to his mother, why would she want him dead? And if he wasn’t, why would he go out at night to the railroad site with men he knew worked for her? It makes no damn sense.” With this last, Maggie flopped back in her chair in exasperation. She watched Alex for any sign that she was about to learn more.

Alex’s voice, when she spoke, was strangely vulnerable.

“You can see that this is difficult for me,” she said seriously. She took in a deep breath. “Can you let it lie, Maggie? As it is?”

Maggie shook her head.

“To speak honestly, no, I can’t.”

Alex considered that and nodded. A thoughtful expression replaced the vulnerability that Maggie knew she’d seen, even if just for a few moments.

“If you knew someone near you was going to commit murder, would you stop them?”

“Yes,” Maggie said certainly.

“By any means necessary?”

“Yes.”

“By murder?”

Maggie narrowed her eyes.

“If it was the only way to stop them killing others, yes. But Lillian Luthor didn’t kill her son because he was going to kill someone himself. I doubt she’d even care.”

“She wouldn’t.” Alex squinted, apparently ready to try a slightly different tack. “You know Kara’s my sister.”

“I don’t see how—”

“Just—she’s my sister. I’d do anything for her. But I’d stop her, if she’d lost sight of, of who she is. Do you see?”

Understanding dawned. Lena where she shouldn’t be, with less grief over her brother’s death that she ought to have—

“I think I’m beginning to.” Maggie took a gulp of her whiskey, with an unbidden thought dedicating the draught to everything Lena Luthor had gone through. “He was going to kill someone?”

Alex looked relieved.

“Engineers and workers, on the railroad. To derail it for good. They’d been sabotaging it the entire time, but the final plan was to stage an accident with as big a body count as possible so that no decent human could expect Lillian Luthor to keep laying track.”

“She’s a good woman.” Maggie didn’t mean Lillian. “Her mother knew?”

“Yes.”

“And you?”

Maggie had meant it as a direct continuation of the previous line of conversation, as in, _did you, Alex, know that Lena had killed her own brother and that her mother was sabotaging the railroad, and did you, Alex, keep that from me this whole time?_ It was swiftly losing importance, however, as Maggie came to grasp the magnitude of what Alex and Kara had faced in going toe-to-toe with Lillian Luthor, for whatever reason they’d done so. In Alex’s shoes, she wouldn’t have trusted anyone until it was all over, either.

Alex answered the question differently, though.

“I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but I do have a badge this time.”

She began to dig in her pocket, and Maggie laughed out loud.

“Really?”

Alex smiled back, more widely and freely than Maggie had seen her before.

“US Army Corps of Engineers.”

“So you’re not a doctor after all,” Maggie said exasperatedly.

Alex grinned wider, now with an impish tilt.

“No, I am. I have degrees in mechanical engineering and medicine from—”

“Oh, shut up,” Maggie laughed. She stood and gestured for Alex’s glass.

“You asked!” Alex exclaimed, handing Maggie the glass. Unexpectedly, she stood too, and followed Maggie over to the cupboard.

“And I regret it,” Maggie rejoined, refilling her glass.

Alex was standing close, enjoyably close, but Maggie made one last go at understanding the full events that had transpired in Midvale.

“Why was the Army Corps of Engineers interested in Lillian Luthor?”

Alex looked uncomfortable.

“Well—that has more to do with Kara. An old friend of ours—and then Lena-- it's a long story, I guess.”

Maggie almost let it drop, but the look of vulnerability on Alex’s face was back, and she had the sense that the opening she’d been given was not one given to many.

“I’ve got time.”

Alex smiled softly.

“It’s late.”

“The morning, then.” Maggie put a hand to Alex’s face before she could think better of it.

“I should go,” Alex offered in a whisper.

Maggie tilted her head to the side.

“You should. But you could stay, if you wanted.”

“Oh?”

“Yes," Maggie breathed. She closed the distance, finally, until there was room only for silence between them. 

“Oh.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> All done! I'll probably come back to clean up and edit a little in a few weeks, and I'm considering a sequel focusing on Kara and Lena in this universe. Thanks for reading!


End file.
